Everything
by lipstickstainedcoffeecups
Summary: "God Jess, please. You're not ruining anything. What are you ruining?" "Our friendship." Jess overhears Nick and Schmidt talking while she's in the shower. Set after See Ya.
1. Crying in the shower

"Nick!" Jess whisper-shouted, tangling violently under the sheets, the smell of eggs and orange juice filling the air. Her mind was slowly emerging from a hazy dreamland, of fragmented words and events. Finally, she remembered the previous night's events. She flopped girlishly on the bed and clutched her flowery pillow to her chest. She heard people talking in the kitchen, laughter, and the sound of the frying pan, all rolling into a montage of routine, of the mornings Jess was used to. Her room smelled of vanilla and raspberries, the faint scent of her perfume she hadn't washed away the night before. In fact, when she arrived home from dropping Nick off, she just threw on a crumpled up pair of red flannel pajamas that had sat in a lump on her bedroom floor. She had been too tired and worn out to shower, as the day had sucked the life out of her. But now, Nick was in the kitchen, probably hunched over a newspaper, grumpily, and was going to stay. He was going to keep living with her in the same stupid loft with the same stupid roommates. The thought alone made her giddy.

Impulsively, she swung her long legs off the bed and ran towards the door. Her fingers were about to turn the knob as a single thought entered her mind: shower. She had forgotten to shower. There was no way she was going to run into Nick's arms beach-style smelling of body odor and faint, drying perfume. Then again, Nick wasn't a hugging person…

No, Jess thought. Shower first, greeting second.

She rummaged through her drawers and found her favorite soap and shampoo-conditioner set. She sleepily threw all her supplies in a tiny pink bag and crept quietly from her room, making sure she was not heard by the guys. She shut the bathroom door and folded her towel over her rack, her head spinning as she slipped into the shower and removed her clothes. Just as she was about to throw them outside the curtain and turn on the shower nozzle, the door slid open. Gasping, she slid back and pressed her body against the end of the shower, listening to the sound of her roommates shuffling in.

Just as she was about to announce her presence, Schmidt said, "Hey Nick, I think Jeeeessssss is awake."

_Oh my God._

"Shut up, Schmidt," Nick replied in his gruff, morning voice, squirting toothpaste on his old brush. "Jess and I are friends. Nothing more," he argued, and Jess could smell the Old Spice lingering off his tee shirt.

"Sure, man," Schmidt shrugged, clearly not convinced, rummaging around the bathroom shelf for a bottle of sculpting chutney. Jess almost rolled her eyes as she thought about the way her roommate pronounced "chutney." It brought her back to a memory where Julia had stayed overnight, and she covered her full pink lips with her hand in order to stifle a groan.

Truthfully, the whole conversation was rubbing Jess the wrong way, and she felt a sharp pang as Nick waved away Schmidt's accusations, which was ridiculous. If Jess were part of the conversation, God forbid, she would have taken Nick's side. Then again, didn't Jess always take Nick's side? But the bathroom was cramped and smelled of alcohol and hair gel and her heart was hammering and she felt sick to her stomach, so she quickly pulled her phone out of her pajama's pocket and texted Cece.

"Cece… call Nick and tell him to go check the TV. I'll explain later."

I hope she's not sleeping, Jess thought as she rolled her toes on the marble floor, sucking in her breath. The thought of them finding her in here, naked, ears listening to this conversation, was so embarrassing she would probably have to throw herself off a cliff. Also, Nick's words were rumbling under her porcelain skin and boiling her blood, and all a sudden she felt a big space expanding in her chest. Great, she was going to cry. That was what she needed in a time like this.

She heard the phone ring in the living room and she sighed as Schmidt and Nick both ran out to get it. Once she heard them click on the TV, she shut the bathroom door and turned on the shower. Then, under the safety of the drizzling hot water and the shut door and the TV blaring loudly in the living room, she allowed herself to cry. Her fingers rested softly on the center of her stomach as the tears fell and her eyes burned red. Crying in the shower was so different than normal crying, she thought, her big blue eyes strained on the pale yellow fluorescent lights and her senses focused on the spot underneath her eyelashes that had collected no dry tears. Her pain was washing away, along with the soapy remains of the shampoo she rinsed out of her hair, and she watched as they slowly swirled down the drain. Once she felt the achiness subside, she stumbled out of the shower, wrapped the towel around her body, and felt around for her pajamas. Her pajamas lay soaking wet at the foot of her shower. Perfect, she thought sarcastically, her teeth chattering just as she looked at them. Just fucking perfect.

She took the wet clothes and cradled them in her arms as she got out of the shower. For some reason, she felt exposed as she braved the long hallways only sporting a fluffy pink towel she had bought at Bed, Bath, and Beyond, which was ridiculous because that was always part of the morning routine, the routine she liked, the routine she had spent a good chunk of her morning reminiscing, spread out happily over her sheets. But Nick's words were still making her skin crawl and her eyes sting and her heart hurt, so she softly slammed her bedroom door and curled up into fetal position. She wouldn't cry though, because she didn't have the hot shower water to cover up the evidence.

Sighing, she threw on her favorite dress, a number with black quarter-length sleeves and a floral yellow skirt. She slipped into her favorite ballet flats and found herself at the door, again, this time her courage wavering. She knew they would suspect something was up if she waited any longer, so she turned the knob and forced herself to move into the kitchen.

Schmidt, Winston, and Nick all sat in a circle at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and laughing over some story that happened at the bar. Winston coughed and gestured Jess, who had been awkwardly standing in the doorway, her fingertips toying with the bottom of her shirt. She gulped as all the guys looked at her. She felt hot. Why was it so hot?

"You guys okay?" she asked, feeling unsteady.

"Yeah Jess, we're fine. Are you okay?" Winston asked, and suddenly Jess realized that she was the one acting out of the place, not them. Jess smiled her toothiest smile and her eyes accidentally met Nick's. Nick jumped out of his chair and hugged her, tighter than usual, and she closed her eyes and tried to remember this moment: Old Spice, coffee, and something else, his stubble rubbing up against the side of her face.

"Get a room!" Schmidt yelled. "This is not a barbaric household. We do not act this way in front of each other. We save tight hugs for private spaces."

"I'll keep that in mind next time you frado kiss me," Nick rebutted, stepping back from Jess. "Hey," he said, just as usual, his smile mirroring hers. Nothing was different. Why did everything feel so different?

Jess smiled back, her lips feeling forced, and her eyes flitted over to Schmidt. "Jar," she proclaimed, grabbing tea mix from the pantry. She started boiling the water and found her mug from the cupboard, a cute purple one that read: "Jessica Day's Classroom Presents: High School Musical, Middle School Edition." She prepared her drink and listened to the guys relax into their regular chit-chat.

All a sudden, after yet another bar story was dissected, Jess turned around. "Nick, why did you come back?"

The straightforward question took him back a little. He laughed, sounding just as guyish as always, and drank his coffee, which was surely now cold. "She was a bitch," he said, bluntly. "I should have listened to you guys."

The whole time he spoke, Jess couldn't help but feel the words were directed solely at her.


	2. Wine late at night

For the most part, Nick settling back into the loft felt completely natural. It felt like nothing had changed. Jess relaxed into the routine of making him eggs in the morning and playing True American with her roommates and giggling at his snoring face as he fell asleep after watching the game. Still, every night his words played on repeat in her head, riling her up and making it impossible to sleep.

Jess was grading papers at the kitchen table when Nick stumbled in one night, clearly intoxicated by lack of sleep. He didn't seem to notice her as he opened the cupboard and grabbed a bag of chips. Once he found the dark blue Doritos bag, his attention snapped to Jess, whose hair was piled messily on the top of her head. She was wearing a simple white tank top and flannel blue bottoms, her thick brown glasses tucked on her ears.

She raised her eyebrows. "Doritos?"

He grinned, suddenly awake, and crunched down on a chip. "Don't judge a guy by the type of chips he eats," he warned, leaning up against the counter.

"Cliché," she answered back, taking a sip of tea. He made a face as she drank tea for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. How could someone drink so much tea? His eyes roamed to the label.

"Really, Jess. How do you drink so much tea?"

Under the dim lights, he could make out her rolling her eyes. "Tea is good for the soul, Nicholas," she argued, scribbling furiously with her red pen. "Plus, it comes in a variety of flavors."

"Tea comes in more than one flavor?" he asked, clearly surprised by this new information. "No Jess, that's bullshit. There's only one flavor of tea."

She dropped her pen and shifted so she was facing him. "No there isn't. There's green tea, mint tea, strawberry tea, tea with cream, tea with sugar…" she rambled on, and stopped short when she realized he wasn't listening. "You okay, Nick?"

Nick's head snapped to attention at her words. "Hold on," he said, and he moved to the other side of the room. He flicked on the lights and was briefly taken back by the brightness. He rubbed his hands furiously on his eyeballs to block it out. "Jess, you shouldn't read without the lights on. You could become cross-eyed."

"Wasn't Susan B. Anthony cross-eyed?" Jess inquired, yawning, her arms stretching over her head.

"Yes. She became cross-eyed because she read without the lights on."

"Good to know," Jess said, sounding sincere, her lips meeting the edge of her glass again. She struggled to make out Nick's expression. Even with the lights on, he was extremely difficult to read. "What are you thinking?"

"Um…" Nick stopped, short, rummaging in his head for an answer to Jess's question. What was he thinking? He found himself thinking about the pretty way her cheeks flushed pink, but seeing that as not a quality answer, he shrugged. "Nothing," he replied, sitting in the chair next to her. "That I'm thirty and I'm going to die alone," he joked.

"Join the club," she laughed, pushing her papers to the edge of the table. They laughed over their cheap humor and Nick reached underneath and grabbed a bottle of wine.

"Any for you, Ms. Day?"

She giggled and brought her knees to her chest. "Yolo," she said.

"You did not just quote Drake's 'The Motto'," Nick groaned.

Jess flipped her brown curls so they fell out of their up do. "Only, I did," she said, laughing.

Nick made his turtle face. "I'll get us cups," he said. "And try to forget you just said that," she sighed as he got up, his warmth no longer radiated towards her. She brought her arms to her chest. He peered at her. "What's up, Jess?"

"Nothing. Just cold," she replied.

Silently, he took off his robe and slipped it over her shoulders. Her breath hitched at the small sign of affection. Why was Nick being so nice to her, all of a sudden? That wasn't Nick's thing.

"Nick, this is weirdly out of character," she commented as she watched him juggle two glasses. He grinned and sat next to her, his lips pulling into a helpless smile.

"Do you want me to start screaming at you?" he asked, pouring the clear liquid into the cups. She thought about it for a second, knitted her eyebrows together, and shook her head.

"No," she said, inching her fingers on the cool surface of the table. "Not this late at night. Maybe tomorrow," she smiled at his soft laughter, suddenly vividly aware of every movement: the brush of his arm as he poured her cup, the sweet, dry smell of the wine as it poured smoothly in, and their loud gulps as they swallowed it down. Everything with Nick was simple: it came like a second nature, but at the same time, it was complicated and wore her out. That had been one of the simple days.

Jess couldn't help but stare at Nick's lips as he licked away the remainder of the wine and put his glass in the sink. He gestured Jess's and she nodded in approval, suddenly packing up her papers.

"You going to bed?" he said, sleepily, moving slightly towards the doorway.

She nodded. "Tired."

He grinned at her and she started to take off the robe. "Keep it," he said. "Tonight's going to be a cold one." She was about to argue, but she quickly nodded in consent, liking the way he was taking care of her. She also knew she was treading in dangerous territory. He was getting her all riled up again and feeding her false hope. She also was just started to become aware of her feelings for him, which had been bubbling to the surface. There was no point in trying to push them down anymore. They were starting to take over her, and it was a slow process that could not be controlled.

"Good night," Nick smirked and hugged her, briefly, and then shuffled into his room. Jess stayed frozen until she heard his door shut. Her attention turned to the light switch, which she flipped off and stared into the empty space.

"Good night," she whispered softly, and went reluctantly to bed.


	3. Tears and almost confessions

_I like Nick._

The thought clouded her mind the next afternoon as she scrunched up on the sofa with the guys, pretending to be interested in the game. Beer cans were strewn all over the living room and the game was heating up. All a sudden, their team won, which resulted in an excited scream from Schmidt and Winston. They cussed, screamed, jumped off the wall (Spiderman style, Schmidt explained) and bro-fisted. Nick just grinned and looked at them like the idiots they were.

And Jess liked that about him: the way his head stayed on the ground, the way he was able to stay on the surface. Jess liked the way he rolled his eyes and cussed quietly and grumpily shuffled to his room. She liked him. She liked Nick.

Nick was her exact opposite: grumpy and calm. He balanced her out, almost perfectly. All a sudden, it came clear to her: butt-shaking arguments. Dried tears in the shower. Wine shared in the middle of the night. It had been so obvious to her all along, and yet she had refused to acknowledge it until now. She refused to truly admit it to herself. But now, as she crept quietly to her room, her feet barely meeting the ground, it hit her so hard she almost fell: she liked him. Maybe, someday, could even love him.

But then again, she almost started crying. She remembered the words she heard in the shower. "We're nothing more," Nick had said. Nothing more. Jess was his buddy. Jess was sort of like another bro, a bro who rocked a lot of polka-dots and had checks with baby farm animals on them. Her heart almost ripped open, and she sat on her carpet in order to calm herself. No wonder she had been crying! Why didn't it hit her there and then? But Jess wasn't the type to jump into anything: she gradually figured her feelings out, slowly removed the Band-Aid and suddenly all at once ripped it off in one obvious, painful moment. So Cece had been off. The roles were reversed. Jess had been the one head over heels, and Nick was just the one who had no idea. Suddenly, everything seemed different.

"I'll just get over it," Jess softly told herself. But this felt different. Nick wasn't just any other guy. Nick got her… he was her Matthau. Jess rolled her eyes as she thought back to Cece's words. Then again, this was no surprise. Cece was always right, wasn't she? And Jess was always the last one to figure things out.

Somewhere in her gut, Jess knew Nick was the one. She would never feel this way again. And she needed to tell him. She needed to come clean, because she couldn't turn away, not this time. And if he was disgusted and turned her away, she had a model friend that would let her live with her in a heartbeat. With Nick, it was worth risking her whole life just for the slim chance of being with him. She knew that. This wasn't just a silly crush. This was important.

This time, she wouldn't chicken out.

Quickly, she threw on a pair of pajamas (pajama outfit… she rolled her eyes). She put her hair in a ponytail and tucked the stray tendrils behind her ear, biting her lip. At last minute, she put on a fluffy pair of slippers and crept out of her room, slowly shutting the door behind her. Schmidt and Winston were still lounging in the living room, so she went the long way to Nick's room, not wanting her roommates to assume anything was up. She also knew if her roommates caught her she would use it as an excuse to put herself off the hook.

Rip the Band-Aid off, she thought.

She found herself outside his door, shuffling her feet, biting her lip, smoothing down her pajamas. Finally, she gathered her courage and knocked.

"Come in," he said, gruffly. Her feet locked with carpet, and all a sudden she felt sick to her stomach. Move, Jess, she tried to command to herself. Move. But she stayed frozen in place, and she was almost positive her heart stopped beating.

"Hello… is that you, Jess?"

Sighing, Jess let herself in, her cheeks flushed, and found him on the edge of his bed reading a book. She quietly closed the door behind her and crossed her arms across her chest, hoping he couldn't hear the high volume of her heart hammering in her chest. What was she going to say?

"What's up, Jess?" he said, impatiently, staring at her with focused eyes. Heat, that's what she felt. She was going to start crying. She couldn't lose him. But she knew deep inside, it was worth the risk. Maybe she could play it off as a joke if he said no.

"I… you're busy. We can talk another time," she said, turning away from him, and putting her hand on the knob of the door.

"Jess."

I can't do this, Jess thought. I can't. I love living with these guys. I might ruin everything for everyone. I'm being unfair.

She turned so she was facing him. "Yes?"

"Just tell me."

It was easy for him to stay. Still, she forced herself to turn around and look into his eyes, which seemed to be a different shade than the day before. He patted the space on the bed next to him, which easily made Jess blush and almost trip as she approached him. Her breath hitched and she forced herself to keep steady eye contact as she began to try to tell him how she felt.

"So… Nicholas," she said.

"So, Jess," he replied, blunt. This was not going to be easy.

"Um, so… have you ever heard of the game truth or dare?"

Nick rolled his eyes. "Of course, Jess."

She fidgeted with her fingers. She was not being as coy as she thought she would be in her head. Still, she tried to keep on with her current tactic, because it was probably the least embarrassing. "Um, so, I was playing with Cece… and she, um, dared me to…"

He smiled at her stuttering words. "She dared you to what, Jess? Steal a car? Burn down the loft? Steal Schmidt's sculpting chutney?"

She rolled her eyes at that last one and laughed before she could stop herself. What if he said no? What if things were never this easy between them again?

_I want passion. Even if it's harder and it hurts more._

She grinned and bit her lip. "Not exactly," she said. "If that were it, why would I be in you room? Plus, that would be an impossible dare. Schmidt keeps his chutney under heavy guard. I'd bet you $20 he has some sort of camera."

The sound of his laughter pushed her forward, so she opened her mouth and tried to keep her words steady and to the point. "Cece, um, dared me to ask you something."

"And what was that Jess?"

He smelled of Old Spice, like usual. His hair was rumpled, like usual. Stubble covered his chin, like usual. He was making things difficult for her, like usual. His smile mirrored hers and all of a sudden, she thought, he doesn't like me back, he's never going to like me back, and I'm ruining everything. I don't want to live without Nick. What am I doing?

That was when she started crying.

Her lips trembled and her shoulders shook and tears spilled over in painful swiftness as she stopped trying to pull herself together. It was no use. Nick rubbed her tears away with this thumbs and put his hand on the small of her back. He let her lean onto his shoulder, and she welcomed his affections, because this was the last time he would offer them, anyway. She knew he hated seeing her in pain, but still, that did nothing to calm her.

"Jess… do you want some tea?"

She couldn't help but give a small smile. "Don't I always want tea?"

He laughed. "Breakfast, lunch, and dinner," he said. Her heart ached as he lifted himself up. "I'll be back in a few minutes, okay?"

She nodded and stared at his retreating figure. She had an overwhelming desire to lie down, but with her and Nick's current circumstances it just seemed wrong, to lie down on his bed when he didn't even feel the same way. So she forced herself to sit up and listen to the sounds of movement in the kitchen.

When Nick returned, he found Jess sleeping on his floor, rolled up in a ball. He placed the tea on the table and lifted her in his arms, and carried her to her room, ignoring the glances given by Schmidt and Winston. When he steadily put her body on the sheets and tucked her underneath the blankets, her eyes opened a little.

"Nick," she mumbled, sounding weak and quiet. "Nick, I wanted, I wanted to… to tell you…"

He softly stroked her cheek. "There's always tomorrow," he told her, concern showing in his voice. By the time he reached the door, she was snoring soundly. Knowing she was okay, he gave her one last glance and shut the door behind him.


End file.
